


black holes, solid ground

by Zebooboo



Category: Destiny (Video Games)
Genre: Grief/Mourning, M/M, Osiris' shenanigans, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, non binary nirwen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-14
Updated: 2020-07-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 19:53:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,610
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25251931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zebooboo/pseuds/Zebooboo
Summary: "This will be for me, Sagira. I want to know, even if like this. I need to speak with Felwinter."His Ghost freezes in mid-air, completely taken aback, and he turns away from her before she composes herself.He doesn't think he has strength enough to accept the pity or the understanding in her gaze."...it wouldn’t be him, Osiris.""No. Perhaps it never was."[post-The Lie quest, pre-Season of Arrivals]
Relationships: Felwinter/Timur (Destiny), Osiris/Saint-14 (Destiny)
Comments: 11
Kudos: 61





	black holes, solid ground

**Author's Note:**

> .... I don't know what came over me to write this, but here we are.
> 
> MUCH LOVE TO GRACIE, who waddled through this mess for me <3

_“Osiris,_

_I cannot begin to explain what has been revealed, nor can I imagine your reaction. I wish I could have delivered this in person, be of better use or support, but alas, I remain with the City._

_The Guardian has been hard at work, securing our safety from the falling Almighty by empowering the Warmind. I cannot begin to see how this will affect us in the future but any ally we would have is invaluable._

_But… This… There is so much new anger and pain that I must force myself to tell you, else I would be tearing into the Warmind's Lab and nothing would remain._

_Rasputin was responsible for the Iron Lords' deaths. For Felwinter and Nirwen's, your old teachers', deaths. He tricked them, made SIVA into bait and then directed it to end them._

_The Guardian learned of this from Rasputin himself. Led them deep inside his facilities and told them like it's a bedtime story!_

_Ah, and if only it was simply that._

_It seems like Felwinter, tried and true protector of humanity, was a direct creation of Rasputin, a puppet. I still cannot fathom how that came to be._

_Rasputin used Felwinter as, well, a spy. A learning tool for him. To learn better of humanity._

_But he died. And the Traveler decided that Felwinter was needed. When Rasputin realised that he could no longer control Felwinter, he tried to kill him. He probably died many times._

_This must have happened over a long period of time, enough for Felwinter to become a feared Warlord and then an Iron Lord. But then Rasputin decided, if he cannot have his 'Son', nobody can._

_The Iron Lords were looking for humanity's future. They only found their doom._

_I am so sor-”_

Osiris tears his eyes away from the screen before he can finish reading. The sting is getting too strong to see and he…he… 

He covers his mouth before any shameful sounds can escape. This shouldn't be so hard. It shouldn't hurt so much. There have been countless people that he has buried. Strangers, enemies, many friends and loved ones. Fellow Guardians. Saint. 

And the Iron Lords have been long dead. Long ago mourned. Learning they weren't simply killed by rogue programming but outright trapped and murdered should not shred his composure so easily. 

But they were murdered by _pettiness_. By a seer, illogical conclusion of _programming_. This is somebody's _fault_. This is _Rasputin's_ fault. 

And he buried and grieved his teachers for it. 

"Osiris…"

Sagira's voice is muted, threadbare. She wasn't prepared for this, as he wasn't prepared for this. 

He scrubs at his eyes, frustrated and bewildered and suddenly so furious he wants to scream. His hands are trembling as he sets them back on the pilot seat's armrests. His teachers, his _friends_.

The same anger and pain Saint describes is coursing through his veins like fire. Like his Dawnblade has trickled into his chest and then pumped like liquid fire to his body by his frantic heart. 

"Osiris."

His narrowed gaze meets Sagira's, his lips pursing into a thin line. Sagira's peaks tuck against her core, "Are you alright? We should take a break, you need a break. This, everything can wait for a day, a few hours-"

"No." The word rips out of his dry throat. He sounds like he's been choking. With the way he feels his shoulders tense and strain, that sounds about right. 

He coughs and tries again, "There is no time. Rest is not something we can afford."

Sagira flits to the side, shell snapping outwards. 

"How about you try saving the universe when you're not about to break down!" Her tone is scathing and worried and it shows. 

But he can't stop. Each moment not spent working, searching, is a moment when the Darkness creeps closer, when a threat has time to bolster itself. It's something that needs to be done. He _has_ to keep going. 

He shakes his head, grasping the controls with unsteady fingers. He re-sets them on course as Sagira watches and judges him silently. 

She will understand, in time. She always does. If he stops, then his regrets will catch up to him and the tangled ball of this new painful loss will stand in the forefront of his mind until he unravels it. It is a distraction he does not need. 

It would have better off if Saint had not sent him this communication. What had the man been thinking, sending this kind of-

He shakes his head forcefully. No, no, Saint did what he believed best. It would have been worse if the Titan had delayed relaying the news. Better off soon and better to hear from Saint rather than anybody else much later. 

Better off to hear from Saint the reason Rasputin murdered the Iron Lords was because he could not share his toys than-

Osiris breathes deeply, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. They take up too much space in his head, he must purge them, otherwise… 

Otherwise he fears the spiral he will fall into. The same spiral realising he's lost Saint sent him into. And while he cannot fathom ever choosing any different, creating the Sundial, endangering all timelines, breaking time itself… 

For Saint, he would do it every time. But this kind of thinking is dangerous. 

If he allows himself time and space to let these possibilities take root yet again, then another issue like the Sundial fracturing time will crop up and this time there won't be a Guardian great enough to stop him, help him. 

No matter how wrong what happened. No matter how much they deserved better. No matter how much he wants to change it. Or how much he wishes it. 

Some wrongs simply cannot be righted. Must not be righted. Regardless of people's feelings. 

Osiris takes a shuddering breath and laughs. If he were any more sentimental, he would think he can almost see Nirwen shake xyr head at his fatalistic views, start going on a tangent about how if humanity worked on Osiris' principles then maybe they would have never made it past the wheel. 

His hands are still shaky, but he can imagine the stink eye he would be getting from his teacher for letting a situation sit and rot in its wrongness. For letting his ego get in the way of reaching catharsis. 

_'A foolish youth_ ,' xe would say. ' _Too caught up in his head. The world will go on without him and he will scramble to catch up._ '

Nirwen would laugh at his scowl and leave a sullen Osiris to a disgruntled Felwinter to try and teach. The exo had always said he was gullible and idealistic but too egotistical to act properly. That was why Nirwen riled him up constantly. 

Somewhere at that point Felwinter would snap at him to concentrate or drag him off to the training space. 

Osiris blinks out of his memories at a blip on the console. He corrects the course and rubs his eyes tiredly. The anger is bleeding out of him, banking down to a cold shimmer instead, and leaving him drained, hollow. 

The urge to scream is still there, clamped behind gritted teeth. He swallows it down. The ones he wants to scream to cannot hear him. 

Too egotistical is maybe the wrong word, when he is the only one to see the collision course humanity is on with disaster. Time and time again, humanity survives on the persistence of Guardians and little more. Plans, preparations, doomsday heraldings… all fruitless. It is the Guardians that push through. 

They cannot always be there to save the Last City. He _must_ act, and he must act alone. 

He pauses in his thoughts. There's a scoff. Another remnant of a memory steeped in mired nostalgia. He can't place the person to the sound yet, but he can place the setting. 

Low light, dark shadows long into the night. Sagira away from him, on the other end of the library with Felspring. She never tells him what they discuss. 

He doesn't remember what he is discussing with Felwinter either. Not that it matters, their theory had been disproved mere seconds ago and even Felwinter is scowling irritably and the man can't express emotion to save his life except for-Ah, yes. 

Timur, eyes twinkling and smile sickle sharp, sitting next to Felwinter in a casual sprawl. Gleefully picking holes and pulling apart their notes like a scavenger. And slipping teasing touches along Felwinter's side when he thinks he won't be seen. 

The man is insufferable. The same way Saint says Osiris is insufferable in their correspondence. Osiris almost desperately hopes for different reasons. 

' _So if you can't do it, then it's impossible? When will you break that narrow mind of yours free?_ ' Osiris had thought the man insufferable for more than one reason, but his attitude and bluntness grating at Osiris had been central. 

Worse even, Felwinter agreed with the man more often than not. And when he didn't, he let himself get sucked into a debate that would start at midnight and end the next day at noon. By which point Nirwen will have already turned the theory around on its head enough for Osiris to puzzle out a different, and viable, conclusion. 

Then Nirwen would leave Osiris to his satisfied musings and shoo the debaters from the library. Xyr face would have a grimace as equally long suffering as Osiris' on it. 

And he has to wonder, how someone like Felwinter, so impassioned and resolute, how could he ever be anything less than his own person… 

"Osiris, you are running us off course again."

His hands clench back around the controls to steer them back. Sagira titters and turns to glare at him once the indicators are out of the red. 

"You need to stop, Osiris. You need some time, even if you don't like it."

A groove digs itself between his brows at that. "Sagira, I will not repeat myself-" 

Her shell expands and twists sharply. "You can't even concentrate enough to steer a ship that's running on a set course! You need time to sort this out, whether you like it or not!" 

His teeth click shut, scowl turning to Sagira, who is very pointedly glaring at him. Irritation shimmers like an overfull cauldron that needs only a drop to overflow. 

The console beeps again. He's broken course again. 

The fight leaves him in a rush and he sags into the chair. He can feel the exhaustion and old grief like shackles around his bones, the new pain and disbelief clawing at scabbed and healed wounds. He peels his fingers off the controls to cover his eyes, feeling defeated. 

There's a nudge at his shoulder a moment later; Sagira nestling in his feathered cowl. 

"If the world will end because you can't be absolutely perfect for a day or two, then let it end. You can't carry humanity on your shoulders alone, Osiris."

She speaks softly, but there's a cutting edge to her words he can't help but chuckle at. A criticism for him as much as the rest of Guardianship. He likes it. 

Osiris sighs deeply. "Very well. A day." He says and can particularly feel Sagira perk up. 

Silence slowly settles, the distant rumble of the engine the only thing trying to pierce through the thoughts still whirling in Osiris’ head. Possibilities lost in time, old questions he never bothered to ask because he considered them unimportant, the small and insistent voice in the back of his head shouting, ‘ _Felwinter must have known, how could he **not**_.’

He presses his fingers against his temple, in vain trying to silence the clamouring. He breathes slowly, pushing against the invasive notions, but he is so tired.

And he is nothing if not resourceful.

He continues, "I want to test something in the Infinite Forest, one day is time enough." 

Sagira rears back, as if taking a new breath to start shouting. He holds a hand up, shaking his head lightly.

"This will be for me, Sagira. I want to know, even if like this. I need to speak with Felwinter."

His Ghost freezes in mid-air, completely taken aback, and he turns away from her before she composes herself. 

He doesn't think he has strength enough to accept the pity or the understanding in her gaze. 

"...it wouldn’t be him, Osiris."

"No. Perhaps it never was."

\---

He takes care to not fly over the Lighthouse. This is not a social visit, or even a private one, to Saint. He is in no mood to be confronted or comforted. 

Sagira doesn't try to dissuade him when he climbs the steps to the Infinite Forest, nor does she begrudge him the moment of quiet regard of the Lighthouse before he steps past the Forest's shimmering portal. 

She does mime clearing her throat when a Cabal thresher drops a group of Cabal soldiers a bit past the dunes. He reaches for his Cubes as he steps inside, the path switching to his own space, separated from the Vex for experimentation. 

He doesn't stop walking as he switches the parameters, injecting information and settings and configurations and his fingers tremble doing it. 

His boot sinks in snow and he stops. The Cubes are in place and the biting air of the Peak blows against him. He has to clench the Cubes hard enough in his palm to hurt to convince himself to look up. 

The Iron Temple is the same as he remembers. Cold, imposing, the home of protectors, a place of learning. And so lonely. 

No wolves greet him with cold noses searching in his pockets for treats or pets and he feels the sudden loss now that the simulation has taken root. He refuses to rewrite it simply for their missing detail. 

Osiris breathes in the cold air of his old home, as refreshing as it always is, and steels his core. 

He walks up the steps, into the communal area lit with braziers and laid down with rugs and tapestries hanging on the walls to keep the cold and frost away. Down the dim hallways and the room that Nirwen had commandeered for xyr communication station when the Iron Wolves started wandering too far away. 

Further into the dusty library Felwinter had kept, that Timur expanded on, that Skorri added to and into the back. With the plush rugs and the obviously added later on fireplace, burning low with its grate pulled across to catch any stray embers. 

And in the corner, half covered in shadow, Felwinter. Sitting in one of two armchairs paired off with a low table. An out of the way corner for people to speak quietly in the library. He used to sit here often himself, studying.

The exo looks to be an exact copy of what Osiris remembers of him. Robes haphazardly tossed over his frame, a thick pelt clasped around his neck, too engrossed in his book and research to pay attention to anything else without being prompted. 

Osiris stands just inside the light of the fire, and drinks in the sight of his long dead teacher. 

The simulation doesn't acknowledge him beyond a quick sweep of his bright optics before returning to his book. 

He did not expect anything else. 

"Felwinter."

The exo's shoulders rise and fall as if taking a deep breath before marking his place and setting the book aside. His voice is without any discernible inflection. "Osiris, you don't often visit from the City." 

Odd, he had not injected a timeframe when creating the simulation seed. He'd tried to keep it as barebones as he could, his primary goal being to ask questions until he answered them himself. Since he only knew so much that the simulation could work off of. 

Besides, he'd never visited after he went to the City. 

Osiris keeps his response short, wary. "No."

The exo hums and crosses his arms, orange-red eyes taking Osiris in before turning to stare at the fire. 

"…How does it fare?"

The continued unexpected comments from the simulation are slowly putting Osiris on edge. He had not left the learning algorithms so lax as to get results like this, had he? 

Regardless, if chit-chat is what this Felwinter wants, it's what he'll get. "It thrives, as much as the remains of civilisation can thrive while bombarded by enemies from all sides."

His derisive tone earns him a clipped snort from the Iron Lord. “Humanity is tenacious.”

Osiris nods stiffly, “It is.”

Awkward silence reigns, broken only by the crackling of the fire. Osiris can’t remember a time when we felt inadequate or unsure in his old teacher’s presence. The words he wants to speak sit heavy on his tongue, the weight itself like a warning before he opens his mouth to say them. 

But he did not come here to hesitate or question himself. “Why did you never go to the City?”

Felwinter turns to him from the fire, expression stony and unreadable as always. “I saw no reason to.”

Osiris narrows his eyes at the lackluster answer and pulls the veil down his face if only for Felwinter to see his scowl. “All other Iron Lords visited at some point. You were the one to urge me to ‘live and broaden my horizons among peers’, and yet you never did.”

The exo looks almost bored as he braces his elbow on the armrest and rests his chin on his fist. His tone is almost an even monotone. “Is this leading anywhere, Osiris?” 

He crosses his arms and refuses to acknowledge being unnerved at the simulation’s demeanor. He is the one in control here, even with a few lax parameters. “Were you hiding?”

Felwinter hums and taps a finger on his chin, the light of his cheeks a muted and flickering thing as he speaks softly. “Was I hiding? Interesting phrasing. Wouldn't you say I am still hiding?” 

Osiris snaps with gritted teeth. “Are you?”

Felwinter fiddles with the book he’d set aside, pinching a corner of the hardcover between the fingers of his free hand, thumbing over the corner of pages. If Osiris’ shortness bothers him any, he doesn’t show it. “Why would I ever hide.”

The seer nonchalant attitude of this entire conversation brings Timur to mind and Osiris feels his hackles rise, his patience and fuse cut short by the new upheaval of emotions and anger. “Because the Warmind is chasing you!”

The growl in his voice might have covered the crinkle of Felwinter’s fingers crushing the corner of his book, but he can’t possibly miss the flicker of Vex architecture reconstructing the book as soon as Felwinter withdraws his fingers from the destroyed pages.

Osiris almost draws his Dawnblade.

But Felwinter remains seated, relaxing back into the armchair with a sag of his shoulders, completely unbothered by the casual reconstruction of the simulation. He even sounds tired as he starts speaking, eyes trailing over his palm. “Rasputin never really stopped chasing me. And I never stopped searching for him.” 

He crosses his legs and lets his arm drop down in his lap, bright eyes blinking back to Osiris. “But you knew that, or rather you knew enough for this simulation of me to know this.”

Warning bells ring in Osiris’ mind, alarm setting his nerves on fire, the Cubes just a flick of the wrist away from switching this entire simulation off. Obviously something was corrupted in the seed he created, obviously he did something wrong, obviously he, he…

He is still only just trying to have yet another dragged out conversation with his teacher. He wants to have this dragged out conversation with his teacher. It might be a broken simulacrum, but he won’t ever have another chance like this. He wants to have this and this Felwinter even seems willing enough.

Still, the situation bears him asking the obvious.

“…How do you know, how could you know this is a simulation? I have kept this part of the Forest isolated for years!” His voice cracks halfway.

Felwinter has the gall to chuckle and Osiris scowls at him. “You made this simulation sloppily. You aren’t typically sloppy, Osiris.”

Osiris opens his mouth to protest, he is so unused to reprimands at this point. He finds he doesn’t have the heart for it. Really, he feels very tired. The armchair feels just as soft and comfortable as he remembers it when he lets himself sit. “I...No, I don't make a habit of it.”

“And despite that, here we are.” Felwinter’s voice has a little lilt to it and Osiris lets himself realise the laughter in the exo’s voice is as real as it would ever be again. It brings a pained smile to his face.

He takes the destroyed-not-destroyed book in his hands, if only to have something to do with his hands.

Felwinter has no such qualms, looking sidelong at him, voice as steady as ever. “I would assume I am dead?”

Osiris breathes heavily through the nose, no use in lying. “Yes.”

The exo’s voice crackles, venting air as he speaks. “I expected as such, otherwise we would be talking face to face.”

Felwinter turns to Osiris fully when the exile remains silent, nodding. “You were never one to avoid meeting your problems head on Osiris. Ask your questions, but I don’t guarantee an answer.”

A wry smile tickles Osiris’ lips. “Hmhm, you never did.”

“So.”

Osiris takes a moment to peer in Felwinter’s unwavering gaze, gathering his words. “Did you know you were walking into Rasputin's trap? That SIVA would be nothing more than your grave?”

Felwinter blinks in response, probably only registering the information Osiris granted access to the simulation. He carries on, “That you were the reason the Iron Lords were murdered.”

Those bright optics dimmed, and Osiris is familiar enough with both exos and Felwinter to recognise the thoughtful expression. 

He waits, listening to the low fire pop as Felwinter stands up to walk to the mantle. There is a tinny quality in his voice when he speaks up. "You are asking if I killed the Iron Lords…" 

Felwinter has turned his back to Osiris and even beneath the pelt he can see the way they bunch up. "In a way, I suppose I did."

He can't help the involuntary tensing at the former Warlord's response. But Osiris bites his tongue and reigns his thoughts back from jumping to conclusions. Felwinter is not done speaking. Slow and low and Osiris scarcely recognises the creep of pain in his former teacher's tone. 

"I thought I knew Rasputin, that after all my years searching and digging, I truly knew him. After I climbed the Peak, and he stopped hunting me and trying to kill me, I believed it." Felwinter sets a hand on the warm stone on the mantle and leans heavily against it, as if his balance is wavering. 

"I was wrong. Instead I went looking for him, for SIVA, and in doing so dragged everyone down with me." 

The guilt is plain to hear, and Osiris doesn't know if he should perhaps try speaking up. Offer a comforting word to the damaged mimicry bearing its heart to him. Felwinter doesn't let him. 

He pushes away from the fireplace and turns to look Osiris in the eye. The stubborn lift of a chin contrasts the depreciation in the exos voice. "So yes, I did kill the Iron Lords. I killed Nirwen. I killed Perun and Jolder and Gheleon."

He steps in close to stand over Osiris, hands clenched at his sides and vocoder lights flickering. "And I killed Timur and no amount of resentment will change that."

There is an echoing hollow in Osiris’ chest at the bitterness in Felwinter’s voice. The same bitterness that had him building the Sundial piece by piece by piece. He realises with a blink he might be letting too much of himself project into the simulation, putting Felwinter’s relationship with Timur in a different box than it really was.

Felwinter sits back down to the armchair, more of a fall than a sit, looking more exhausted by the minute. "But no, I did not know that SIVA was anything more than a way for humanity to have better chances. We all hoped it would be."

Momentarily, Osiris believes that Felwinter will break. It certainly looks as if he will crumble or rage any moment now. But he only opens his mouth again, voice less impassioned and more defeated. "I suppose that is all we ever had. Hope and the Light."

The admission of ignorance barely registers, Osiris’ mind still turning over memories to see if he truly is putting words in his dead teacher’s mouth.

“You loved him.”

Felwinter jerks out of his thoughts and turns to look at Osiris, mouth parting just a bit. Then he chuckles. “Love is a strong word for us. And entirely the wrong thing you wanted an answer to.”

Osiris can feel the dusting of pink outrage on his cheeks. Felwinter seems to take pity on him.

“Timur and I...had something. Whether you would call it ‘love’ or ‘companionship’ or ‘convenience’ is irrelevant. He was mine, even if I could trust no one with the truth.”

The exile nods, he can understand. Maybe not entirely, but it is enough. There remains one more thing he wants to know.

“How much did you know? About your connection with Rasputin.”

Felwinter smiles wryly. “All too much. Or maybe just enough. I was constructed by the Warmind, used by the Warmind as a means of learning and then chosen by the Traveler. Felspring used to say she chose me for a reason. I believe I just traded one master for another.”

A knot ties itself in Osiris’ stomach. Trading masters paints the world in a harsh light. A very correct light, but disheartening all the same. He put aside the simulated book. 

He swallows the knot down. “And why did you not run? Leave all this behind; Rasputin, Risen, humanity and its struggles? You already had more than enough reason.”

The exo seems to smile with his eyes, the tense lines of his body softening as he leans into the cushions.

“I had become invested. And by the time I had found a way out, I was complacent. I’d believed in the Iron Lords, that they would really change the world.”

The Iron Lord picks up his relinquished book and opens it up at a seemingly random page. He sighs and says quietly, “I sincerely hope they did.”

It’s Osiris’ turn to laugh this time. He closes his eyes and actually relaxes into his chair. Felwinter is more human than he thinks himself to be. It’s more comforting than it should be. 

“You did. The City would not be standing without you and the Iron Lords.”

There’s an uncharacteristic snort at his side. “Do not flatter me Osiris, it is not like you.”

A cheeky smile curls on Osiris’ lips. “Then you know that I am not flattering you.”

“Is this Osiris actually giving compliments? Has the world ended and we missed it?”

Osiris’ eyes fly open, landing wide and disbelieving on the man standing on the other side of the library.

Timur looks older, or maybe it’s just the stubble on the man’s cheeks, but he’s smirking teasingly like he would on any other day. Osiris swallows and the implications of the other Warlock standing there crash on him. 

He superstitiously asks Sagira to double check on the Sundial's subspace integrity. If the casing of the bones had broken-

Felwinter huffs and keeps reading without looking up, “He is simply being as he always is. Too caught up in his head.”

Timur laughs, “Typical Osiris then!” 

Osiris scowls through his panic. He stands up and makes to leave. Timur claps him on the back as he goes.

He is almost out the door when Felwinter raises his voice. “Do not forget you live in the present Osiris. Face your present problems. The past is gone.”

Timur looks with a curious glint between them and raises a brow when Osiris smiles, small and sad. “The past is little more than the regrets of the present. All is in our hands to change.”

He walks out to Timur’s curious questioning and his heart hammering in his throat.

The simulation has evolved, past simply being broken or corrupted. He hopes to pieces that he doesn't hear any whispers before he manages to leave. He desperately doesn't want to forcibly break the simulation, if he even can break out of the simulation at this point. 

The braziers in the central room are burning brighter than when he came in. 

A bit of snow is melting by the doors. He hesitates to open them and walk out. What, who, is he going to meet outside the gates? 

Saladin? Radegast? A restless Skorri searching for inspiration from the vistas of the sprawling mountain range? 

He breathes in and pushes open the gates. A resting wolf perks up at his presence. It climbs to its feet and pads over with bright eyes and a lolling tongue and he can't resist scratching behind its ears, slipping his fingers in the thick mane and combing a few tangles out. 

Its delighted noises make him smile. Small pleasures, his life has been missing them sorely. 

"You look tired."

His fingers pause in their fishing around in the wolf's thick fur for mats and tangles at the new, old, old, so very old, voice. 

This person, he is even less prepared to face. Osiris wishes for mercy he knows he won't get. 

"I am. It seems like nothing can go right. And when things do go right, they are at a steep cost."

"But nothing worth getting is ever easily obtained, Osiris, didn't you know?" 

"So I do…Nirwen, how do you fare?" Xyr eyes twinkle with mischief but xyr smile is soft, fond. Xe is surrounded by the pack, juveniles' heads in xyr lap to pet and older wolves are curled around xem to nap.

"I am as I've always been." 

Which Osiris knows to always be, 'up for trouble.' He chuckles and gives a parting pet to the wolf nipping at his fingers for attention. It whines and goes back to its nap. 

Nirwen observes him for a long moment, sighing. "You are troubled, to come to Felwinter for answers."

Osiris nods, walking down the steps of the Temple. The exit to the simulation shimmers a few scant metres away, but he lingers at Nirwen's feet. 

The air is cold, colder than earlier. The sun is setting. He wonders if the simulated people here are less real for the ahamkara's meddling or not. Maybe they feel the cold differently than him. 

He swallows thickly, "Yes, I was. It has been a tumultuous time."

Nirwen hums, running a hand down a young wolf's spine absently. "Did you find your answers?" 

Osiris takes a moment to consider this. Did he get his answers? Did he come here chasing specific answers, or did he just conjure a place he could come to talk nonsense and feel the comfort of familiarity, of coming home? 

He shakes his head. Does it even matter? The only things that matter are beyond the shimmering exist of the Forest. Real, tangible and fallible. 

This is a past he cannot change, for the world's sake. He had his chance and he took it, he can spare no more. 

The acceptance of this new facet of the past is hard to swallow. But the weight slipping off his shoulders are like manacles being set free from his limbs. 

"Yes."

His teacher smiles. "And what will you do with them?" 

Osiris returns the smile. "Carry on."

He steps through the gate and he doesn't have to look back. 

\---

Saint waits for him when he steps out. The blast of hot air is a stark contrast to the mountain's freezing winds and he shivers, beads of sweat gathering at his brow. The leftover adrenaline still pumps through his veins. Sagira chimes in the termination of the simulation, the proper containment of the Sundial and wonders if this was only a fever dream. 

But Perfect Paradox gleams in Saint's hands and there's a trail of Cabal and Vex corpses on the steps to the Forest. Sand whips up to his face and Osiris is still on the mountain. 

Saint takes a cautious step forward when Osiris simply stares. 

"I had wondered if I had made a mistake when I sent you that letter." Saint's voice rumbles as he speaks. "When I saw you fly in from the Lighthouse, I believed I had. That I would have to chase after you again." 

That snaps him out of his thoughts and Osiris reaches out to set a hand on Saint's arm. "No. Never again Saint. I thank you for telling me so fast. I just…needed to come to terms with this in my own way."

The tension in his shoulders eases when Saint covers his hand with his. "I hope to never bear you such news again."

Warmth blooms in his chest at Saint's words. "I hope you will not have to, but I shall bear them regardless, fear not."

Saint snort. "You will bear them. And maybe you won't forget you don't have to do it alone." 

Osiris laughs, sudden and bright, and wraps his other hand around the back of Saint's head. He pulls him in to tap their helmets together with a fond smile. 

"No, maybe I won't."

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed everyone!  
> Do let me know if you see anything weird!  
> <3


End file.
